Olly started to feel kinda good. Light-melon-headed, but good. In the mood for chatting. “No, Chester is. But he’s dead. Jimmy must’ve…” Synapses in Olly’s brain were still snapping, making connections, but he had a hard time sorting them out.
“Who’s Chester?” Kat’s question snapped like a whip.
Olly flinched. “Photographer. He blackmails people, but he’s dead.”
“Yes, yes, you said that. So you and Jimmy killed Chester and decided to take over his blackmail business.”
“I didn’t—”
“Yeah, sure, you’re innocent as driven snow. So where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
“Chester’s stash? The stuff he blackmails people with?” Kat spoke slowly, like someone talking to an imbecile.
Olly was eager to prove he wasn’t one. “Oh. Jimmy must’ve taken it.” It seemed so obvious now. Why didn’t he think of this before?
Kat didn’t seem impressed. “Of course, but where?”
The memory of him and Rich—delicious ginger cupcake Rich—spying on Jimmy Boy floated back to Olly on pink clouds. “His mother’s house? I don’t think Jimmy’s very smart.”
A not so pretty sneer twisted her pretty face. “Well, something we agree on. Do you have an address?”
Olly racked his brain, and the address slowly came back to him. Kat jotted it down and patted his cheek. “Good boy,” she said. “Don’t go anywhere.” She tittered, and Olly realized it must’ve been a joke, since his limbs didn’t work too well.
Kat left the room, and Olly just sat there like a big melon-headed thing. He remembered how his roommate Dylan cut a hole into a melon once and poured half a bottle of vodka into it. A few hours later, they cut the watermelon up and ate it. It was cold and melon-y, and they got totally wasted. His head felt just like that. Olly’s pocket buzzed, and it took him several seconds to puzzle out that it was because of his phone. With great effort, he fished the thing out and stared at the screen: a missed call from Rich, and a text too. His fingers fumbled, and he managed to open the text window, but his eyes wouldn’t quite focus. He tried to send a reply, to tell Rich about his head being full of vodka.
The phone flew out of Olly’s hand and way across the room. He stared after it dumbly before even registering Kat looming over him. She wasn’t happy. Quite the opposite. “None of that shit!” she yelled at him. She had something in her hand. Something dark and decidedly unfriendly—a gun. “Get up. We’re going for a little ride.”
Olly didn’t want to. “I don’t wanna.”
She didn’t seem to care. “Well, you have to. See, I lost my temper a little when your friend came by unannounced. Such rude behavior, don’t you think? So now he’s at the bottom of a ravine, where he belongs, but unfortunately, my car got dinged up. I could report it stolen, of course, but it would be a little suspicious. But here you are to help me out of this jam.”
“Huh?” None of her babbling made any sense to Olly.
She sighed. “It’s so simple—you stole my car and drove your buddy off the road, and then crashed yourself. Everything’s wrapped up nicely, see?”
Her story made no sense to Olly. “But I haven’t—”
“Not yet.” She grabbed Olly and yanked him to his feet. “C’mon, I have a nice spot for you just down the road.” She jammed the gun into his ribs. “Move before I change my mind and just shoot you.”
Olly tried to explain his legs were made of rubber, but she wouldn’t listen. Instead, she clasped the back of his T-shirt and shoved him toward the door. They barely made it to the car when his knees gave out. To keep him from crumbling to the ground, she shoved him against the car and held him there one-handed. That was when Olly noticed a figure dressed in black climbing over the gate. A figure with bright red hair. Olly’s chest swelled with an emotion so powerful he thought his ribs would crack. Rich was here to save him, and Olly had a deep suspicion he was in need of saving.
Unfortunately, Kat noticed Rich too. There was an explosion of sound and a metallic clang as the bullet hit the gate. Rich dropped to the ground and rolled into the shrubbery.
“How fucking many of you are there?” she growled, and then raised her voice in Rich’s direction. “Stand up, or I’ll shoot this one!” She pointed the gun at Olly. Rich emerged from the bushes. “Hands in the air! Come closer.”
As Olly stared at her face, he saw the laser focus of her eyes, and he had a moment of clarity: Kat was going to turn the gun and shoot Rich as soon as Rich got close enough. She’d kill Rich and cover it up God knows how. Sharp pain bit into Olly’s chest as he watched Rich inching forward with hands held up, eyes skipping around as if searching for options.